


Invisible

by Bit0Mess



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Soulmate AU, analogical - Freeform, self deprication?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-19 14:49:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22712512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bit0Mess/pseuds/Bit0Mess
Summary: Virgil assumed he didn't have a soulmate. He tried talking to them without a response, anyway. Idea from tumblr user @sympathetic-deception
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 2
Kudos: 110





	Invisible

**Author's Note:**

> How writing to your soulmates works is that, with any sort if writing utensil, you can wiring on yourself too your soulmate. The either can feel it working, and it comes out as stylized to their personality. If you truly want the messages to be gone, or appear again, it's required focusing on either bringing them up again or getting rid of them. It is usually used for soulmates to talk more or to honor a dead loved one.

Virgil didn't have a soulmate. At least, that was his conclusion after three weeks of writing on his arm with no response. His best conclusion, anyway. It also could be that his soulmate was ignoring him, something Virgil didn't want to imagine. Didn't want to think about it. So he didn't. He stayed convinced that he didn't have one, despite everyone getting one, that he was different because he couldn't face the fact of being ignored by the one he was supposed to cherish and love him. 

That was until his was 16, though. When he was sixteen. It was a little over a month before his birthday, later claimed to be 47 days, writing appeared on his arm. In dark blue calligraphy, in the middle of class, 'Are you there?' appeared on his arm. Virgil almost jumped out of his chair. He frantically wrote back, just under it, that he was there, who was his soul mate? Where was his soulmate? He didn't get a response.

He froze, for probably too long. The teacher asked if he was okay, where Virgil quickly excused himself and went to the bathroom. He cried in his stall until he was able to calm down, where he cleaned up and went back to class, pretending nothing was wrong.

For the next few years, he felt writing again, yet nothing came of it. It was still the single question, nothing more. He tried getting rid of it, but it came back every month. He left it there.

In college, Virgil was pretty sure he hated his soulmate. He never got a response for anything he started, and the words that always drew his eyes mockingly 'Are you there?' so simple and so, so ignorant. He started wearing long sleeves.

He was walking to his art class when he saw a flash of dark blue, writing on the left arm, Virgil quickly turned to follow it, seeing a man speedwalking to his class, squinted ahead of him. He recognized calligraphy. He had on a black polo and a loose, blue checkered tie that Virgil couldn't be sure was put on correctly. 

Virgil followed the man, walking quicker and grabbing the man on the shoulder. They were the same height.  
"Hey! What is written on your arm?" He turned around quickly, taking a moment to process the question. " 'Are you there?' " He hesitated for a moment. "Why?" There was dread on his voice. Uncertainty.

Virgil didn't know what to think of that.

He quickly pushed his sleeve up, and Logan stared at it for a few seconds before turning back to Virgil, looked at him, unfocused. "Let's go back to my dorm." Virgil frowned, but Logan brought him to his room. He quickly determined that he didn't like that.

In his dorm, Logan assuring that his roommate shouldn't be there, he moved around, getting Virgil sweetened coffee after asking and then going on to just talk about he thought that he didn't have a soulmate, he couldn't explain the feeling of writing on his arm. He paced the entire time, and Virgil wondered if he could just slip out without Logan noticing, as the other didn't look at him as he rambled. He also wondered if he ever stopped moving.

After three minutes of this, Logan hurried to his room, muttering 'shit' under his breath. Virgil thought about leaving, how quick Logan would notice. Before he had time to really test that, Logan came back with two halves of a pair of plastic glasses, what Virgil was pretty sure was UV resin, and a blacklight. "I'm an idiot." He was the only thing Logan said as he sat next to him, actually being quiet and still and he fixed his glasses and wow Virgil couldn't believe they were both that dumb.

"My glasses broke this morning, and I just decided to suffer through the day and fix it after my classes..." Logan trailed off, but Virgil only got why when he put on his definitely-still-frail glasses and ran the light up the length of his arm for it to light up in writing. Multiple questions of being there, of why he wasn't responding, the frantic scribbling under 'Are you there?' Virgil let it a faint chuckle, embarrassed. "Oh, invisible ink." Logan smiled slightly at that, nodding.

"I didn't even know that was possible." Logan hummed, reading the questions Virgil had left on his arms. He went to the kitchen, getting Virgil his own blacklight. Virgil didn't know why he even had two, but he wasn't going to ask. "Want to start over with it?" Logan questioned softly.

It took Virgil a moment to understand to question, but he nodded. Restarting would do them good.

They settled down more comfortably, and Logan finished fixing his glasses. The questions were gone in several minutes, not that they're and would stay blank forever. To everyone who didn't catch the flashes of blacklight in their share time, they'd only know of Logan's words. His lists that pick up and leave off randomly, leaving gaps they couldn't see why. Unfinished drawings or careful outlines on nothing else that existed.

But they knew. The knew that in the right light, each other would light up. They'd have highlights no one else had the privilege of. They made sure to always have a blacklight and a pride no one else could place.

And, if anyone saw Virgil writing and drawing dutifully and carefully on his arm, who were they to judge when nothing came out of it?


End file.
